


Breakdown

by ahopper84



Category: Hanson (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angry Sex, Blow Jobs, M/M, Male Slash, Oral Sex, Rimming, Sibling Incest, Spanking, Stripping, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 18:56:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6126781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahopper84/pseuds/ahopper84
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a bit of angsty Zaylor smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breakdown

“I don’t give a fuck what you do, okay? I’m done.” Ike all but threw his guitar down and turned heel, storming down the hall. A minute later I winced at the sound of the front door to our studio slamming shut. I looked down at my hands; they were shaking, my knuckles white as I gripped my drumsticks. Everyone knew I had a short temper, and no one knew how to set me off better than my brothers.

“Wow, Zac. That was totally helpful. Thanks.” Tay’s passive-aggressive tone only served to fire me up even more, and I glared at him from across the room.

“Screw you. Maybe if you weren’t so busy trying to write everyone else’s part for them, you could actually remember your own.”

“What’s your fucking problem lately? You’ve been fighting me on everything I do. If you’ve got something you wanna say to me, just say it so we can get back to work.” Tay turned his back to me, not even giving me a chance to reply to his face. I bit my lip hard to keep from screaming; he could be so infuriating, even more than Ike. Sometimes I wondered if it was worth putting up with. But of course it was, or at least that’s the excuse I gave myself for not leaving ages ago.

“You’re such an asshole,” I muttered under my breath. 

“Yeah well I’m the asshole who gets shit done, so if you think you can do better, there’s the door.” Tay’s words hit me like a slap in the face. We were usually careful not to throw out comments like that.

“You want me gone that bad?” I spat. 

“Spare me. You’re not going anywhere and we both know it.” He turned slowly, leaning against the keyboard and crossing his arms. His eyes were dark, but a smirk played on his lips. “You need me.”

I stared wide-eyed. There was no way he knew… I’d been so careful. The tremble in my hands spread through my whole body, my vision blurring.

“Shut up,” I said, my voice quakey. 

“Aw, what’s the matter,” he cooed, pushing away from his keyboard and stalking closer. “Don’t like hearing the truth?”

“I said shut up,” I said, more firmly. I could feel my whole face burning, a dangerous cocktail of shame and rage swirling inside me.

“You wouldn’t last one day going solo. Ike and I have been carrying your ass since you were six. So don’t even pretend you’d ever split.”

“What the… Solo? Why would I...” I stopped myself, but Tay’s face was already painted with a curious scowl. I mentally kicked myself for misinterpreting, and for being so obvious about it.

“What the fuck did you think I meant? That you needed _me_ , like personally?”

“Forget it,” I said, turning away and fiddling with my monitors. I was starting to panic, beads of sweat forming on my forehead, but I tried to distract myself by starting up a drum beat.

“What the fuck does that even mean?” Tay shouted over the noise, but I ignored him. “Zac? Zac!” Within two strides he was next to me, ripping my drumsticks from my hands and tossing them aside. _Nobody_ touched my sticks. I shot to my feet, chest heaving with angry breaths.

“Fuck you, Tay!” I stared him down for what seemed like ages. The air between us was electric, the hairs on my arms standing on end. His eyes narrowed, flickering up and down almost too briefly to miss. Almost.

“Is that what you want?” he said softly, his tone threatening, but with a hint of curiosity. I felt like I’d been punched in the gut, actually letting out a sudden breath.

“You’re insane,” I said, and I shoved past him. The panic I’d felt building over the last few minutes was amplifying ten-fold. I needed to get out of there, fast.

“Am I?” His tone was light, almost patronising. I turned to look at him; the smug bastard was actually smiling. I stood frozen in place as he crossed the room towards me yet again, his hips swaying in a way that couldn’t have been unintentional. I swallowed hard, forcing my eyes to stay on his.

“I’m not really surprised, you know,” he went on, speaking slowly. “I get it; I really do. You grew up seeing everyone worship me, seeing me be put on a pedestal as the end-all be-all of sexyness.”

“You’re so fucking full of yourself.” I couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth; I’d always known he was vain, but hearing him sing his own praises like that was a whole other level.

“So it’s not that far a stretch to believe you’d end up being attracted to me.”

“You’re fucking sick.”

“Yeah, I probably am,” he laughed. “But then, I’m not the one who wants to fuck his brother.”

I swallowed back bile, not at the concept, but at how certain he was of his accuracy. He was so sure, without any confirmation or even hint, that I wanted him. The fact that it was true was almost irrelevant. I was positive I’d never given him any reason to suspect. Okay, maybe I let my eyes wander a little too long from time to time, but that was easy enough to explain away. And maybe I didn’t have the best concept of personal space when it came to him, but we’d always been emotionally close; it just felt normal for us to be that way physically, too.

I stumbled to the nearest chair and fell into it, unable to think straight. Had I really been that obvious? Had anyone else noticed? Had Taylor noticed before today, or had it been my misunderstanding that had clued him in? I eyed him as he circled behind me, and jumped a little when his hands rested on my shoulders.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” he whispered in my ear, his breath tickling my skin. I shook my head stubbornly, but he just chuckled. “You’re a really shitty liar, Zac. Always have been.”

“What do you want from me?” I snarled, balling my hands into fists again. He was playing with me now, like a cat with a rubber mouse.

“I wanna hear you say it.” He circled to my front again, towering above me. But I wouldn’t give in. He of all people knew how stubborn I could be, especially when I was pissed off, and I was so far beyond furious it was almost scary.

“No.”

“Have it your way…” He smirked, and for a brief moment I hoped against hope that he would just drop the whole thing. But of course not. Instead, he reached up and slowly undid the top button of his shirt.

“What are you doing.”

Instead of answering, he popped the next button, and the next, untucking his shirt from his jeans. My eyes flickered from his face to his hands and back as he stripped off the top layer. Was he really doing this? Was he that desperate to hear me admit how depraved I was? And if so, what did that make him? 

He kept going, slowly peeling off his t-shirt; I couldn’t resist staring at every inch of newly-revealed skin, no matter how badly I wanted to. I followed the rising fabric curtain up his stomach, his chest, his biceps. I felt my mouth go dry as I stared. Gay, straight, or otherwise, no one could honestly deny that Taylor Hanson was an attractive man. 

When my eyes met his again, I felt a knot in my stomach. I hadn’t admitted the truth in so many words, but he’d made it so I didn’t have to. I hated him for it, almost as much as I hated myself for it being true.

“Stop it,” I warned him, but he just grinned wider, his fingers trailing through the patch of hair on his belly. He undid the top button of his jeans and I felt my palms begin to sweat. How far was he planning on taking this? I tried to keep my gaze above the waist, but as he continued his striptease, I found myself drawn to his movements. 

What shocked me the most was how hard he was. He was actually getting off on torturing me. 

“Stop it, Tay,” I said again, digging my nails into my own thighs. I was shaking again, but now I wasn’t sure if it was from anger, or something else. I licked my lips and swallowed hard, willing my body not to react, but I knew it was useless. My eyes bulged as his jeans fell to the floor, leaving him in nothing but his black boxer briefs. _This can’t be happening,_ I thought to myself as he stepped out of his shoes and pants. But it was, and Taylor was standing in front of me, one thumb hitched in the waistband of his underwear.

“Tell me you want it,” he said in a measured tone, “And you can have it.”

“I hate you,” I murmured, my voice shaking almost as bad as my body. And in that moment it was true. I hated him for torturing me, for making me feel this way, for being the impossible object of my desire for longer than I could remember.

“No you don’t,” he cooed, running a hand through my hair. I was sick of him being so sure of himself, so confident in his own gloriousness. I slapped his hand away, and for a moment he almost seemed startled. But a fraction of a second later the smug grin was back, his expression almost pitying. He leaned over, nose-to-nose with me, and shook his head.

“You _need_ me.”

With those three words, something in me snapped. If he wanted me to admit it, I would, but on my terms. Without giving him a chance to react I grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled, crushing our lips together. I felt him falter, caught off balance, but I didn’t care. I stood up without breaking contact, my other hand gripping his arm and holding on tight.

I bit his lower lip hard, making him gasp. His hands brushed against my sides but I pulled back and gripped his wrists hard enough to make him wince. The look in his eyes was wild, frantic, but hungry, and I realized - he needed this too. I decided not to dwell on that thought, though, and instead just give him what we both obviously wanted. 

“Do you know what to do?” he panted, and I wanted to smack him. But as far as he knew, I’d never done anything with a guy, so it wasn’t an unfair question. I let go of his wrists and gripped his hair again, pushing him down to his knees. He stared up at me with a hint of surprise as I unzipped my jeans, tugging them and my boxers down and freeing my painful hard-on. When he looked down his eyes grew even wider, and I could practically see his mouth watering. The hand in his hair gave a squeeze, and he answered with an almost imperceptible nod, before leaning forward and dragging his tongue up my length.

“Fuck,” I sighed as he took me in his mouth, his hands gripping my thighs for balance. I hated to admit it, but he was good. He stared up at me as he sucked me slowly, swirling his tongue around my head. I had to close my eyes, the sight almost too much to stand. 

“You’re not just gonna make me suck you off, are you?” Tay said, smirking up at me. He was still acting like a smug asshole, but he had a point. I pulled him up by his hair and spun around, bending him over the chair. 

“I’ll do whatever the fuck I wanna do.” I eyed him, hoping he understood I’d never actually force anything on him. But the way he moaned and pushed his hips back towards me, I was pretty sure he was right where he wanted to be. I took my time brushing a hand down his back, over his ass, tugging his boxers down as I went. I’d always had a fascination with how perfect his backside was. 

“Look all you want,” he teased, chuckling and wiggling his hips. I brought my hand down against his ass hard and he yelped, his eyes going wide. I grinned as the splash of red spread across his pale skin. I did it again, loving the way the sound echoed. A couple more spanks and he was whining and squirming, and I decided to be merciful. 

I leaned down and gently kissed his skin, burning hot under the handprints. I ran my hand up and down his side gently as i dragged my tongue from one side to the other, leaving goosebumps in my wake. Curiosity struck, and I glanced up at him.

“Hands on the chair,” I told him as I released his wrists. “And don’t move.” He nodded and complied, hanging his head. I brushed my fingers against him softly, planting kisses back and forth. When I just barely spread his cheeks he gasped, adjusting his footing. I let out a breath and watched him shiver from head to toe.

When I darted my tongue out against him he threw his head back, moaning low in his throat. I did it again, pressing harder, and he began to tremble. I circled my thumbs on his hips as I licked him slowly. He rocked his hips back towards me, and I bit his cheek.

“I said, don’t fucking move,” I warned him. He whimpered, and I went back to work eagerly. I let my tongue slip inside him and he cried out, but held still. 

“Y-you’ve… done this… before,” he panted. I didn’t respond, but he was right. I’d messed around a few times over the years, always discreetly. But this was by far the hottest thing I’d ever done, tonguing my brother’s ass in the middle of our studio. I moved my mouth aside and twisted one finger into him, earning another low moan. 

I pumped my finger in and out of him, teasing him with the tip of my tongue. I added a second finger, twisting and spreading him. I didn’t want to go too fast, but he didn’t seem to mind a little pain, either. When I added a third his knees almost buckled, my hand on his hip the only thing keeping him steady.

I stood up and pressed the head of my cock against him. I couldn’t wait any more. I reached up and grabbed him by his hair, turning his head to face me.

“You want this?” I asked, fully expecting some snarky response. So I was shocked as hell when he nodded, his eyes full of longing. “You want me to fuck you?” I tried again. He closed his eyes and licked his lips, but stayed silent. 

“Tell me you want it,” I said, matching his exact tone from earlier. “And you can have it.”

“I want it,” he whispered, barely audible, but to my ears he might as well have screamed it. 

“You got it.” With one thrust I buried myself in him and instantly saw stars. He was the tightest I’d ever had, almost painful but so, so good. I gave him a second to adjust, then slowly pulled out and drove into him again. He cried out, the sound almost like a choked sob. I glanced down at him, his eyes closed tight. I waited for him to give a tiny nod, then continued. 

I built up my rhythm slowly, trying to make it last. But before long I felt the familiar twist in my gut, and I knew I was close. I bent over him and wrapped a hand around his throbbing, leaking dick, stroking him to match my hips. The hand in his hair pulled him upright and turned his face; I crushed our lips together in a fierce, frantic kiss that he eagerly returned.

He finished first, screaming against my mouth and exploding in my hand. My name on his lips was enough to bring me over the edge as well, filling him with shot after shot. I lifted my hand to his lips and he lapped at my fingers, moaning at the taste of his own come.

As I pulled out, he collapsed to his knees, his hands still braced on the chair. I grabbed his discarded t-shirt and wiped myself off with it; he watched me from the corner of his eye, but said nothing. I looked at my brother as I dressed, trembling and kneeling over a chair with my come dripping from his ass, and smirked. 

“Sure, Tay,” I said, taking a step back towards the door. “ _I_ need _you_.”

With a triumphant grin I headed out the door, stopping in my tracks as a certain car pulled up the street. I popped my head back in, shouting loud enough for Taylor to hear me.

“By the way, Ike’s back.”


End file.
